


TENDERNESS

by smudgay



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgay/pseuds/smudgay
Summary: Hana--reckless and childish, full of anger and energy--is sent on a mission with the newest recruit. She's not happy about it. Brigitte, on the other hand, is a little too happy.A.K.A the story of how Hana and Brigitte fall for each other and how they grow up.





	1. EMPTY

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a D.Va character study and then i went wild

_Drowning;_

_Drowning;_

She remembers drowning, spinning around, desperately trying to climb up to the surface, she remembers breathing in and finding nothing

_**Drowning**_.

* * *

Hana remembers the dark of her room, the cool night wind swirling around her like smoke. The yelling of drunk men stumbling down the street, past her old and cheap apartment building. The blue glow of the monitor she scraped together with the cash she managed to take from her parents before running away and then what little she had learned from watching her older brother pour over his engineering school work.

She remembers being hunched over, poor posture just starting to burn her back.

And then she remembers one word flashing across the screen in yellow: congratulations.

In all of Korea, out of the thousands that played, out of the professionals, out of the people who taunted her. Out of her father, probably, if he still played.

She was number one, ranked right at the top.

And not even two seconds later, she realized what that meant for her.

But this—staring up at the white medbay ceiling, emptiness threatening to swallow her whole—was not what she had thought would happen in the end. 

* * *

 

 She remembers dreaming of a better life; _happy._ Not the hurricane pushing down her lungs.

 


	2. EMPTY. 2

Morrison’s words rang in her ears as she laid perfectly still.

_“This is not a game!” He screamed, his face red and puffy, which was amusing, but the look in his eyes was less so. “You’re an adult now, Hana!”_

What did that even mean? And who died and made him her dad anyway?

Sure, she was 20 now, such a _huge_ difference from the 19 she was when she joined Overwatch, but she hadn’t felt any different. _She hadn’t acted any different._

And maybe that was the problem.

“This is so stupid,” she grumbled, trying to shift to her side but the pain forcing her in place. What was it about being in the medbay alone at night that made her so reflective anyway?

And what did Morrison know?

He’d always thought of her as just some kid, everyone did.

Everyone always did.

She was done being a little girl; even if that’s exactly who she is.

* * *

 

Morning came in the form of light streaming through the cracks on the thick white curtains. Angela— _sorry_ , Dr. Ziegler—was there, flipping through some papers beside Hana’s bed. She doesn’t say anything, even though she is very aware the young woman is awake now.

_Fine,_ Hana thought, she won’t say anything either. Petty, maybe. Exactly the kind of thing a child would do, _maybe_. But what other choice does she have?

Silence took the room, Hana’s stomach growled in hunger but even then she refused to speak.

Five, long, silent minutes later, Angela spoke up. “You could have died,” she said, just a little harsh. “You and many others with you.”

Hana groaned; it doesn’t take her long to realize that Angela was not here to say hello. She was not here to ask how she is doing, she’s not even here to give her food like she normally does when she’s stuck in the medbay because she ‘did something stupid’ (it worked out, right? How is that stupid?)

“I’m worried,” she added, putting down her papers and sitting on the edge of Hana’s temporary bed. She doesn’t elaborate, but Hana fills in the gaps for her.

She’s worried that Overwatch might not be the best fit for her. She’s worried that someone so young is here, making dumb, child-like mistakes. Hana’s heard it already.

“Ugh,” Hana sat up, staring the doctor down with an angry glare. “Jack beat you to the lecture.”

Angela closed her eyes, “I’m not trying to lecture you.” She said, exactly the way someone trying to lecture might say. “I’m just…” She opened her eyes and finds a spot on the wall to focus on, “I’m just worried. I don’t want to see you get hurt Hana, and I’m not sure how many times I can stomach seeing you here.” There’s rare concern coating her words, but the compassion is gone before Hana can notice it.

The doctor stood, straightening up her coat. “You have a mission,” she pursed her lips, “Jack was going to debrief you but I asked if I could do it instead.”

The brunette perked up, “I have a…” She trails off, shocked. After almost dying, the last thing she expecting was to be out in the field again.

Angela laughed, “please, don’t be too excited. I’m afraid it’s meant to be a punishment. Or a lesson, perhaps.”

Hana can appreciate the honesty at least.

“What is it?” She asked after a moment.

“You and the new recruit are going on a tour of sorts, for show, attending events and the like,” the doctor let out a long breath, “I’m afraid Jack wants this to be some time-off for you, to reflect. He wanted me to dress it up, make it sound more important than it is but…” She sighed and turned to the younger woman. “I’d like for you to go. I think it’ll be good for you, and it’ll be fun.” She pauses, “I hear the internet connection will be fast.” With that, she smiles, trying to ease Hana into the idea.

“No,” she spat back, “absolutely not. I’m not letting you send me away with some new guy to babysit me!”

“The recruit isn’t going to babysit you,” the doctor chuckled, always a little amused by the way Hana puffs out her cheeks when annoyed at something she knows she’ll eventually give in to. “Unfortunately though, you’re not being asked.”

The younger woman grumbles, crossing her arms with a loud huff, “how long?”

“A week,” the doctor moves to pick up her papers, “at most, I promise.”

“Fine,” Hana stared, “just a week.”

Angela picked up her papers; she didn’t like lying, but she was quickly finding it was the only thing she could do.

 

 


	3. FRIENDS

“I can’t believe it.” Hana leaned against the wall, sipping loudly from her empty juice box. She was well enough to be out and about, but not so well that she wasn’t covered in bruises and bandages.

She wasn’t sure if she should paint her pink ‘whiskers’ over the large bandage on her left cheek but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. It felt odd being without it though, and so she turned to her friend for comfort instead.

Lúcio laughed, the warm and friendly way he always did. “You get a paid vacation, Hana,” he nudged his friend, “the hotels will be fancy, the food, the drinks…I bet the music will be killer.”

“It’s going to be a stuffy party with Mozart on repeat and you know it,” she bit down on her straw, chewing the cheap plastic, “I hate this, and I have to take the new guy with me.”

At that, Lúcio raises an eyebrow in question, “new guy?”

“Yeah, some noob. I-R-L noob. Overwatch noob, no-–you get what I’m saying,” she huffed, “I didn’t even know someone was joining us. I bet he stinks.”

Lúcio smiled, “oh you mean…yeah, it was a last minute thing. But they’re not a—” he stops himself, and smiles, seeing an opportunity, “it’s Torb’s kid, actually.”

“Ugh, gross,” Hana scrunched up her nose, “that’s going to be no fun at all. A mini-Torbjorn following me around….a Torb that’s smaller than Torb…god. He doesn’t even warn anyone before he farts, you know! Gross.”

“You know kids aren’t just clones of their parents right?”

“Explain Fareeha then.”

“Fair point.”

Hana tossed her juice box away, watching in annoyance as it bounced off the edge of the trashcan and thudded against the floor. “I was so angry I didn’t even ask for details. I’m so angry I don’t even want details. Dr. Ziegler just told me to be nice,” She grumbled over to the trashcan, calling back to Lúcio as she picked up her juice box and threw it out properly, “I don’t care if it’s Torb’s kid, I don’t want to be nice to whoever it is. He’s so mean to me!”

“What was that, D.Va?” Torbjorn’s voice was an unmistakable echo in the hallway.

Hana jumped back, awkwardly staring at the shorter man, “Mr. Lint-Home!”

“Lindholm.” He growled, “and I know you know how to pronounce it. You’d think you’d be nicer to the man fixin’ your MEKA.”

The woman laughed nervously, “you wouldn’t do anything to it, right?”

“Might just take yer brakes out if you keep givin’ me lip.” He chuckled, but his eyes glint with a seriousness the unsettles Hana.

“Hey Torb,” Lúcio smiled, cutting the tension with his friendly voice, “did you hear about Hana’s mission?”

“'Course and I couldn’t be happier,” he clapped his hand hard against Hana’s shoulder, causing the woman to stumble forward. “Keep this wildcard outta trouble and my little angel away from gettin’ her nose in dangerous business.”

“…g-girl?” Hana stuttered, “you have a daughter?”

“Two of 'em, you know if you bothered to listen to me.” He replied, “and don’t look so pale.”

Hana tried her best to imagine what Torbjorn’s daughter might be like, but all she could see was Torbjorn’s himself…. Torbjorn in a dress, Torbjorn with a full-face of flawless makeup and his arm hooked around Hana’s as the attend the event together. The same deep voice and accent and all.

She tried not to toss herself into the trashcan right there and then.

“I-I listen,” she squeaked. Her and Torbjorn often get stuck together, him being the main mechanic on her MEKA. He’d tried teaching her how to maintain it herself, but he was so often sidetracked that Hana learned nothing. In the end, he simply did it himself while Hana sat by and powered through the list of games she wanted to beat.

Which, of course, only made Torbjorn more inclined to comment on Hana’s love for games—and something about how kids these days can’t get off their devices.

From there, it had been nothing but a rocky road.

“I totally listen,” she repeated.

“Then what’d I just say, kid?”

Hana gulped, “y-you said something?”

A deep, irritated groan left Torbjorn’s lips. “Just go find my daughter and get going, D.Va.”

“W-will do,” she squeaked again, jumping up into a rough salute before sprinting off down the hall.

“She doesn’t know where Brigitte is, does she?” Lúcio said, watching Hana disappear around a corner.

“She should learn to listen then.”


	4. MEETING

Minutes of wandering around the watchpoint aimlessly feel like hours. She should have asked Torbjorn where his daughter was, she should have asked Angela for details…

In the end, she’d done neither, and there was nothing to go on expect Lena’s loud voice bouncing out of a room.

At least the energetic woman would know where to start.

Hana slid into the room, trying to sound as casual as possible, as though she’d simply been in the area. The room was large, but in the centre stood her iconic pink MEKA. It was one of the workshops, she slowly realized, but what her MEKA was doing here, she hadn’t the slightest clue.

“Yo, Lena,” she stuffed her hands into her pockets and approached the woman, who was sitting atop the MEKA, “no one gets to sit there but me.”

“Sorry, Hana,” Lena laughed, jumping down from the MEKA and running up to pull the younger woman into a quick half-hug. “Glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “except I’m being sent away on this stupid mission with this girl. Torb’s daughter…which is already a pretty terrible concept just by itself.” She took out gum from her pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. “Do you know where she is?”

Lena shifted, but before she could answer, someone poked their head out from behind the MEKA.

Hana’s eyes were instantly drawn to the face, strong and gentle in equal parts. A sprinkle of freckles across the woman’s nose, only covered by the grease smudged on her cheeks. Her deep blue eyes stood out against her red-brown hair and Hana, froze. She had seen attractive women before, she’d run away from home because women were so attractive. But this woman, covered in grease and smiling shyly at her—was a whole other thing.

The woman stood up, her full height more than a couple of inches taller than Hana and the young woman felt her heart soar. Muscles poked out from under her black shirt, and it took everything in Hana not to stare (more than she already had been, at least).

“Oh, uh,” the woman blinked, not sure of what to say. She pointed to the wrench in her hand and gestures to the robot. “I’m going to be working on your MEKA now–i mean from now on–” she rubbed the back of her neck, “y-you’re hurt.”

Hana turned slowly to Lena, who was already waving and out the door. She mouthed ‘good luck’ and 'sorry’ but neither was a comfort.

“Yeah,” Hana turned back, “but it’s nothing. Why are you working on it? Torbjorn usually does it.” She narrowed her gaze, moving towards her MEKA, “and he’s not a fan of people stealing his job, he yelled at me for three days just 'cause I cleaned the canons myself.” He yelled because she had done it wrong, and made more work for him than if she’s just brought it to him in the first place, but the stranger didn’t need to know that.

The woman shifted awkwardly, opening and closing her mouth over and over again until she could find the right words. “It’s my job now,” she smiled, “he gave me the responsibility, and since we’re going on a mission together, it made sense for me to do the upkeep and get used to it now so…”

Hana froze, “mission?”

The woman avoided Hana’s intense gaze, “I’m Torbjorn’s daughter. Brigitte Lindholm.”

Hana blinked, eyes wide. “You’re not…you’re not…but you’re hot! Torb’s genes can’t make hot!”

Brigitte snickered, “I look more like my mom, actually.”

“HE’S MARRIED!?” Hana gasped, trying to imagine anyone falling in love with that small ball of annoyance. She fell against her MEKA, trying to wrap her head around everything.

“I look forward to working with you,” she said, although it was almost a question.

" _How could this happen to me?_ ” Hana breathed out, whispering to herself in Korean.

"It's nice to meet you," Brigitte tried again, "I'm kind of a...uh...fan, I guess," she laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Hana nodded, very clearly not listening, "yeah, yeah, me too." She glanced up at the cockpit of her MEKA, the light blue shield hovering innocently above her. She remembered singlehandedly inventing the move of self-destructing and tossing herself out of the MEKA. She remembered people telling her how stupid it was, but the undeniable usefulness of the tactic couldn't be denied. And it wasn't like they couldn't just make more, they had these things in bulk, after all. No one could pilot one of these things as well as Hana, no one ever dared to. 

Of course, that had little to do with the matter at hand, but Hana needed to think of something to ground her. To tell her that she was needed here just as much as she needed to be here, to belong somewhere. 

"I, well," Brigitte hadn't pictured their meeting going like this. She had lines prepared, she had  _rehearsed_ it. Now here was  _the_ Hana Song, aloof and cool, leaning against her MEKA all charm and calm.

Hana was, undoubtedly, none of those things, but neither could really size the other up just right. 

"Well," Brigitte started up again, "I'm just cleaning up the parts so I should uh..."

"Yeah, me too," Hana responded automatically, moving forward in a daze. "Nice arms." _A beat._ "I mean--I--I have--OH! Is that Ana! Gotta go!"

Before Brigitte could reply, the younger woman was out the door, sprinting down the hall with her mind racing. 

There was a lot she had to process; a mission she didn't want with an attractive woman (whom she did, arguably, want) that just so happened to be the daughter of the man she frequently disrespected (in good fun, but would Brigitte see it that way?). And then, the fact that she had to  _teach_ this woman something. Show her the ropes. Actually  _talk_ to her, and do as much for at least a week.

No thanks, Hana decided then,  _no fucking thanks_. 


	5. DECLINE

"So, can you help?"

Fareeha blinked, turning her head slightly to look at Hana, who had taken it upon herself to try and hide behind a trashcan...for whatever reason. Fareeha really hadn't been paying attention. In her defence, Hana was a hard person to listen to when all her words tripped over eachother.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do," the older woman shifted her weight, "and please stop hiding behind the trash, you look like a racoon."

Hana snapped a finger up to her lips, shushing Fareeha. "I'm not here, remember!" She peered over the top of the trashcan making sure they were still alone in the mess hall. "You can talk to Ana so she talks to Jack so that I don't have to go anywhere! Please! This is super unfair, I mean—i—you know—"

"I don't," Fareeha sighed, "what's so bad about getting to go to some vacation mission?"

"Because I don't wanna go," Hana whined and ducked back behind the trashcan. "Because it's not fair that I have to be sent away to learn some lesson when I did nothing wrong! And I don't want to be stuck with the new person! I don't want to socialize!"

The older woman sighed again, reaching over to grab her cup of coffee off the counter and bringing it to her lips, pausing. "You're making a big deal out of nothing. I had to go on a bunch of these too, it's fine."

Hana glared up at the woman, who hadn't even so much as bothered to spare a look down at her. "Do it or I'll tell Angela you like her."

Fareeha spit her coffee back out, "I don't—"

Hana snaped her hand up, "remember last year's Christmas party? You got really drunk and I had to carry you back? You get very honest when you're drunk."

She nodded solemnly, fighting the heat that rose up to her face,"so you're blackmailing me?"

"Okay, well, no," Hana grumbled, "I'm not that mean, but help me out here! I can't get stuck with Britney!"

"Brigitte."

"Whatever."

"Hana," Fareeha sighed, taking another slow sip of her coffee. "It won't be that bad, I promise."

Hana grumbled again, plopping down on the ground with a huff—shifting herself to lean against the trashcan. "What are your promises good for? Remember when you said that purple thing was a raisin and I said 'no, it's a spider' and you said 'no, I promise it's a raisin' and then it bit my toe? This is exactly like that! Bridget is a nasty spider-raisin!"

"Brigitte."

"Ugh," Hana throw her hands up, "who cares what her name is?"

"No—I mean—" Fareeha coughed, shifting her attention. "Hey, Brigitte. That's—uh—it's just..."

A sweet, airy laugh cut through the air, followed by a voice Hana could hardly wipe from her mind. "Is Ms.Song inside the trash?"

Startled, the younger woman popped up, eyes wide and blood cold. "I was behind the trash, actually."

"Naturally," Brigitte smiled, tilting her head and letting soft locks of brown hair fall. Hana gulped. "Listen, if you don't want to do this I—"

"No, no," embarrassed and fueled by a lifetime of being taught to be polite, Hana waved her hands around flustered. "I-it's okay! I just... think...complaining is....fun? I'm fine! This is fine!"

The Korean turned to Fareeha, who could only offer a weak shrug and a thin smirk.

"Well," Brigitte perked up, taking Hana's words at face-value—or rather, not entirely willing to believe the truth. She had, after all, been looking forward to the trip for weeks. "Then I just came here to tell Fareeha that Ana is looking for her. But... I'll see you tomorrow, Hana?"

"I—" Hana opened her mouth, but nothing left. After a moment, she nodded and left it at that.

Brigitte lingered there for a moment, eyes focused on Hana—the other equally as lost. Words unsaid hung in the air, conversations both were desperate to have.

It was the sound of Fareeha coughing that broke their daze, forcing Brigitte to turn and nervously walk away.

"You have to tell Ana I can't do this, Fareeha."

The older woman set down her coffee cup, letting out another long and tired sigh. "If that's what a two minute long conversation between you two is like, I don't even want to think about what a whole week would be like."

"Neither do I."


End file.
